Almost nothing here changes, so time slips through your fingers like sand. You have all the time in your world to live, to have fun, to just live a pretty normal life. In fact, once you find a purpose here, you’re happy. Me, I don’t have a purpose yet, so I’m going to find one from my uncle today. There are other people like me, people who need appointments, need a sense of purpose.
I heave my 22 year old body out of the chair I’m sitting in, dusty and worn with the passage of time. I set down the comic I’m reading, Greased, and stare wonderingly at it. It’s one of the few books that I’ve read elicit any emotion from me at all, and I always come back to the part where Goro pops his acne over his sister because I like the way it’s drawn.
My uncle’s place is a walkable distance, and I always find myself looking at the ribbons around our town. It has consistently given me joy, but I can’t explain why. Getting a ribbon in this town is a huge honor, especially because you get to pick your own ribbon, including the material, color and pattern. I hope to get my own ribbon someday, but I can’t decide what I want it to look like. In fact, the town I live in looks pretty with all the ribbons, which is why it’s called the hanging town.
It takes ten minutes to reach my uncle’s house if you don’t stop, but I always do. Fifteen minutes after I set out, I’m waiting on the steps, and the steps creak every time I shift my weight. I think he’s a nice man, and the reason the stairs haven’t been fixed yet is because he’s either helping someone with their ribbon, or like me, their purpose.
The door creaks open and my uncle is there, doing what I can’t: smiling. He seems glad to see me, just like he usually is. He knows I’ve been struggling with purpose for awhile now, so these appointments have been going on for some time now. He has always had clipboard tucked under his armpits, yet I can’t see any sweat on the clipboard.
” Do you want to try tagging along with me?” My head is cocked to the side as I consider his words, and honestly, I am curious.
” The ribbons, right?” I want to confirm first.
” That’s correct,” He holds the board towards me, and I see a ribbon symbol next to it: Justin(11 years old). He must’ve been a good boy to be rewarded so early. Usually it’s the adults.” He’s been helpful to this town, so this is his gift. ” He sounds so earnest, and warming, proud like a mother hen. My uncle lifts the pen he keeps tucked behind his ear, under his thick hair.
It’s not a half hour before I see a boy approaching my uncle’s place, the ribbons splayed out in front of me and my uncle. The boy who approaches looks nervously excited, glancing around as the steps creak with his foot steps. My uncle briefed me on what to do, so I ask the question my uncle asks everyone.
“What color and fabric do you want?” Justin chews his lip as he considers, shifting from foot to foot. It’s awhile before he settles on a ribbon that not many have chosen: a black leather ribbon with white cats on it. He takes a shaky breath before he speaks words we can barely hear.
” Make the bow real pretty, okay?” I’m surprisingly good at bows, and he looks at the bow, and he smiles a little.
After making the bow as tight as I can, he looks at us and mutters ” I’m ready.”
I immediately yank on the bow as hard and as fast as I can, and he ceases to breathe, the blood dying the ribbon red. It’s quite pretty, and the death was painless. On top of that, his burial will have pretty flowers.
As I think about all these things, I smile for the first time ever. I remove the bow from Justin’s neck so my uncle and I can hang it up with the other bows. I look at my uncle, my lips quirked up.
” I think I found my purpose.”
